Prompt 53

I looked at the bouquet. It was a bunch of daisies. Bright yellow centres surrounded by pure white petals. Daisies. If he had been listening at all, he’d know I hated them. Loathed them, even.

Adding insult to injury, he had sent a note with them. It had two words on it. ‘Forgive Me’. It stared at me stupidly, silently calling me a fool.

How dare he?

How could he possibly think that this would work?

Idiot.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed the box of matches that had been laying still and unused on the mantlepiece. I struck one against the strip on the box. It lit in one go. That almost never happened. The action of lighting the match was clearly fuelled by my anger. I lit one of the petals first, and watched it start to smoke. The flame licked around its partners and slowly reached the core of the flower.

I threw the whole bouquet into the fire place. The note followed soon after. I stared at it, feeling liberated as the words were erased by the charring that spread across the paper.